


an astounding transformation

by larkscape



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crack, Double Penetration, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Kink Discovery, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Tentacles, Xeno, honestly this is unfiltered silliness, tentacle monster au, the dumb fluffy tentacle fic of my dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-28 20:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18213488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larkscape/pseuds/larkscape
Summary: Yuri kept his head down, but Otabek could still see the flush spreading on his face and down the side of his neck. At Otabek's feet, two tentacles climbed and rippled over each other in what he assumed was a nervous gesture but which looked like— like snakes mating, and oh, that was a bad thought to have right now.“And now that it's started,” Yuri continued, “I can't shift back until I…”Otabek took a wild guess. “Until you work it out of your system?”Halfway through a competition, Otabek finds Yuri having a bit of a pheromone-related problem — because apparently, Yuri is secretly a tentacle monster. Who would’ve guessed? Certainly not Otabek. All the same, he thinks he might have the perfect solution.





	an astounding transformation

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a truly beautiful prompt (and finished embarrassingly late, whoops.) These two fucking morons. I love them so much.
> 
> I’m playing fast and loose with cephalopod biology cribbed from several different species of octopus, plus some of my own invention. Shh. It’s all in service of jokes and tentacle porn.

 

Otabek hadn't seen Yuri in hours, not since the end of the women's short, but that wasn't entirely unusual. Mila’d been looking antsy after her skate and he assumed she'd dragged him off for coffee and shit-talking again.

So he was taken by complete surprise when he walked into the arena's least-frequented bathroom and heard Yuri’s voice cursing up a storm.

“Yura? Are you okay?”

Silence fell. Then, “…Beka?” in a voice high with shock. “No, shit, get out of here. You can't be here, you're not supposed to—  _ fuck!” _

There was a wet-sounding thump from the last stall. The door rattled.

Well, that was concerning. Otabek set down his duffel bag and took a cautious step closer. “What's going on?”

Yuri groaned. “Victor thinks he's _ funny, _ that's what's going on. Sure,  _ he _ can wander around all hormone-crazy; he's got his precious pig to take care of him. The rest of us, though… I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Before Otabek could sift through Yuri's words for sense, something fleshy and grayish-purple and alarmingly motile squirmed out from under the closed door of the last stall.

Otabek never acted so fast in his  _ life. _

“Yura, get out of there!” he yelled, and he was charging down the length of the bathroom, ready to break down the stall door, god, what  _ was _ that thing? It was as big around as his forearm, and purple, and it looked like a snake, or a giant slug, or— something not good, in any case, and then it slithered back under the door fast as lightning and Yuri shouted, “Oh,  _ fuck,” _ and this was like a horror movie, he had to get Yuri away from it—

“Yura!”

“Stop! Everything's fine!”

“No, there's a— a— on the floor!” Otabek set his shoulder to the door and shoved, but short of knocking down the whole line of stalls, he wasn't getting the thing unlatched. “Do you see it? Can you get the door open? Or climb over the top; I’ll catch you, just—”

“I'm telling you, it's fine!”

“No, that thing is still in here—”

“Otabek!” Yuri’s shout was forceful enough to cut through the panic. Otabek froze. “It's fine, I promise. Just… don't scream.”

“I— okay?”

Yuri opened the door.

Otabek didn't scream, because he was a man of his word, but he did have to lock his knees against the sudden need to sit down.

It was _ not _ fine. It was not fine at all, because the purple slug thing was all over Yuri.

No. Wait.

The purple thing  _ was _ Yuri.

_ Tentacles. _ The purple thing was a tentacle, and there was more than one — a hell of a lot more — and they were all attached to Yuri in the place where his legs ought to be. As Otabek watched, the tentacles coiled over each other restlessly. The display looked eerily similar to what it felt like the adrenaline was doing to his own insides.

“You're not screaming,” Yuri said. He almost sounded disappointed. The tentacles kept moving. “Lilia screamed.”

“You told me not to,” Otabek said faintly.

“Yeah, but I didn't think you'd listen.”

Otabek watched as one tentacle crept a little closer to his feet. It looked kind of leathery from up close. Still a weird grayish purple, still definitely a tentacle.

This was a lot to take in.

“It was you,” Otabek said. “The— the thing under the door. It was you. You're a tentacle creature now.”

“Don't say  _ now,” _ Yuri said. “It's not like it's new.”

“What? But… you have legs.”

“Usually, yeah.”

Otabek considered that for a moment.

“Okay,” he said. “Yuri Plisetsky sometimes has tentacles.” Actually, now that the rush of fear was fading, the concept was… Interesting. In ways he hadn't expected. But he had to ask. “Why?”

“Because Victor is a selfish asshole.”

That didn’t seem to have any logical connection to the question, but what did Otabek know? The world was full of strange things he didn’t understand. Yuri’s bottom half looked like an octopus. Who was Otabek to say that Victor being selfish hadn’t directly resulted in Yuri’s not-new appendages?

Yuri seemed to realize how much of a non-answer he'd given, because he heaved a sigh and elaborated.

“Victor is like me. With…” He gestured to his octopus parts, and Otabek found himself thinking, somewhere far away in the back of his mind,  _ ah, that explains so much. Victor isn't human. _ “And he's so wound up with Katsudon that he's leaking his breeding pheromones everywhere, and they're, uh, contagious. God, he never fucking  _ thinks. _ Mila can control the reaction but I can't— I haven't learned how to…”

Wait, Mila was a tentacle creature, too? What the hell was in the water in St. Petersburg? No, that was a question for another time. Right now, Yuri was…

Yuri was…

Did he say  _ breeding pheromones? _

Otabek gathered his wits (or at least tried to, not that he met much success), sucked in a fortifying breath, and ventured, “You can't stop it from affecting you.”

“…Yeah.” Yuri kept his head down, but Otabek could still see the flush spreading on his face and down the side of his neck. At Otabek's feet, two tentacles climbed and rippled over each other in what he assumed was a nervous gesture but which looked like— like snakes mating, and oh, that was a bad thought to have right now.

“And now that it's started,” Yuri continued, “I can't shift back until I…”

Otabek took a wild guess. “Until you work it out of your system?”

“Yeah.” Yuri flushed even darker red, and his tentacles continued their awkward squirming. Otabek was fighting down a blush, too, and failing equally.

“I'm stuck like this,” Yuri spat, scowling at the floor. “I can, you know, take care of it myself—” His shoulders came up around his ears like that could hide the implications of his words, but now Otabek was thinking about Yuri  _ taking care _ with  _ tentacles _ and found himself suddenly very interested in what that might look like. Yuri barreled on. “But it takes at least a full day to get it down enough, and I'd miss the free skate tomorrow. Shit, Victor is fucking  _ dead. _ I'm going to shred him and then this city is going to have a sudden surplus of calamari.”

If questioned, Otabek would blame it on the pheromones that were apparently flooding the air, but his mouth had come unhinged from its filter and he found himself asking, “Is it faster with a partner? You said Victor would be fine since he has Katsuki.”

“I— yes? At least it’s supposed to be. But I don’t have anyone to— and I can't leave this fucking bathroom like this! What if someone sees?”

Otabek considered the situation for a moment: Yuri’s pants were lying in a heap of shreds in the corner, and they wouldn’t have concealed enough to prevent a press incident even if they weren’t, because half Yuri’s body was stuck as tentacles that, without assistance (no, this wasn’t the time for coyness, just say it — without  _ having sex), _ would keep him from being able to compete tomorrow. And he and Otabek were here in this isolated bathroom at the back end of the arena while most everyone else was clearing out for the evening.

Yuri  _ had _ to skate tomorrow. That was non-negotiable. No way in hell was Otabek going to let him miss the second half of the competition. And Otabek was well on the way to accepting that the fluttering in the bottom of his stomach wasn’t fear or concern or even idle curiosity, but pointed interest.

There was really only one course of action to take.

“Tell me what you need me to do,” Otabek said, and casually started unbuttoning his pants.

“What— Beka, what the fuck!”

“Yura. Have I got this right?” Otabek paused, button undone and fly halfway unzipped, to hold up one finger. “You're actually a shapeshifting tentacle creature.”

When the pause stretched out, Yuri eyed Otabek warily and said, “Yes.”

Otabek lifted a second finger. “Your, ah, breeding urge has been triggered by Victor's pheromones.”

“Don't call it that!” Yuri said, squirming and red-faced. “…But yes.”

A third finger. “If you don't act on it, you won't be able to skate tomorrow.”

“Basically, yeah.”

Otabek shrugged. The solution was obvious. “So act on it. I’m offering, if you want.”

“Oh my—  _ fuck.” _

As Otabek’s hands dropped back down to finish undoing his pants, Yuri flushed even darker, but the tentacles were getting more restless, which Otabek took as a promising sign of arousal. Still, Yuri hadn’t said anything further. Otabek paused, holding up his waistband so his pants didn’t drop to the floor.

“Yura?”

“Beka. Beka, stop that.”

“Are you saying no?”

Yuri stepped closer. Stepped? Slithered? Yuri tentacled closer. It was very smooth, like he was skating instead of walking, and Otabek took a moment to marvel at how Yuri was still so graceful even with a bunch of tentacles for legs. His green eyes were intense as he met Otabek’s gaze.

“I’m not saying no. I just…” He reached for Otabek’s pants.  _ “I _ want to do that.”

“Sure,” Otabek croaked. “Be my guest.”

He was feeling very accomodating. Having Yuri’s eyes on him like this felt like triumph. A wave of lust washed through him, and whether it was set off by pheromones (would those even work across— species? Was Yuri a different  _ species? _ Did that mean Otabek had a xeno kink? Oh god, he was not dealing with that little revelation right now) or whether it was simply the effect of Yuri’s proximity, he didn’t care. There was a tentacle stroking along the inside of his ankle, under the cuff of his pants. It was slightly cool against his skin, and smooth, and he wanted it to climb higher. Much higher.

Yuri’s fingers closed on his waistband and shoved it down, and suddenly Otabek was standing in his underwear in a public bathroom with tentacles coiling around his legs.

This was  _ surreal. _

“Yura,” he said, his voice all strangled and high and desperate.

Something sparked in Yuri’s eyes. He surged forward like a tidal wave, and then they were kissing and Otabek was drowning in the feel of Yuri's lips on his own. Warm hands captured his face. Otabek wrapped his arms around Yuri, and through the haze of desire he registered an unfamiliar give of flesh under fabric, a strange muscular suppleness in Yuri’s waist…Oh, wow, the transformation must go up at least to the bottom of Yuri’s ribcage. That was— that floored him, ripped the air right out of his lungs. His best friend was all purple and soft and inhuman under his hands— but he was still  _ Yuri, _ still the same demanding, perfectionist Yuri whom he’d strived after for years, except somehow even  _ more _ now, more limbs, more mystery, more ability to hold Otabek down and completely fucking  _ ruin _ him—

There was no coming back from this, was there? Shit. Otabek was destroyed from the moment Yuri opened that stall door. No more plausible deniability here. He kissed Yuri deeper, frantic, and gripped the foreign texture of his new form as close as he could, praying for sanity.

Another tentacle had come out of nowhere to ruck his shirt up and wrap around his bare waist, and then— then it was  _ lifting _ and they were turning and Otabek found himself pinned against the tile wall, half a meter off the floor, with a paper towel dispenser to his right and a trash can to his left and Yuri Plisetsky in all his purple-tentacled glory right in front of him, getting very well-acquainted with his tongue.

Holy shit, he was  _ everywhere. _ Otabek could feel Yuri’s hands lifting shirt hems, first Otabek’s and then his own, but there were also tentacles doing the work of stripping them. One had worked into the back of Otabek’s briefs and was tugging on them insistently, another was dragging his shirt the rest of the way off and tossing it away, still more wrapped around his feet and pulled until his shoes came off.

Otabek shivered. Every brush against his skin wound him tighter, made his blood rush and his heart pound.

Mark that down as a definite yes to the xeno kink question. Or at least tentacle kink. He could work out the details later. Yuri’s lips were searing, and his hands were tight on Otabek’s waist, and his tentacles were strong and unforgiving where they held Otabek’s arms to the tiled wall, and there wasn’t room in Otabek’s mind for anything but that.

The tentacle working on his underwear finally pulled them free. Otabek had a brief moment to enjoy the sensation of rubbing his naked cock on Yuri’s stomach, but the length was almost immediately covered up again by a smaller tentacle, this one wet and slippery, which wrapped around it in pulsing coils that made him shout.

“Ah—  _ Yura—” _

Yuri licked the sound out of his mouth. Another of the larger tentacles curved up his calf, around his knee, and up to grip his thigh. It tugged, not harsh but firm, and Otabek let it spread him wide. He shivered, making needy little noises.

He was naked and pinned to a wall and covered in tentacles. This was either a B-list creature feature or the start of a so-bad-it’s-good porno. (And wow, his taste in porn definitely should have clued him in on this earlier.)

The tentacle coiling around his cock throbbed again, and another one, equally wet, wandered down under his balls and further back to tease around his hole. He sucked in a breath and tried to squirm closer— and found he couldn’t, caught too tightly for movement in Yuri’s many-limbed grasp.

That only worsened his desperation. “Yura,” he whined, “come on.”

Yuri mouthed down his jaw to his neck and suddenly there was a whole writhing mass of smaller tentacles right at crotch level, wrapping around his hips and thighs and waist, repositioning him slightly on the wall. They ran a little warmer than the big ones, and they seemed more nimble as the tips brushed teasingly over his bare skin, and, coincidentally, they were going to drive him absolutely insane.

Smaller didn’t mean  _ small; _ each was nearly as long as his arm and three or four fingers thick at the base. Otabek desperately wanted to touch them.

He tugged one arm sharply until the big tentacle restraining it loosened to slide up over his shoulder instead. Freed, he reached down to greet his new friends; these tentacles weren’t slick but they were very curious, weaving between his fingers and squeezing, and every time they tightened their grip on him, Yuri sucked harder on his neck. Otabek, in the spirit of experimentation, tried squeezing back.

Yuri made a beautiful, broken sound. They must be quite sensitive, then. Very nice. Otabek could work with that.

If he could spare the brain cells. A more adventurous tentacle curved around his hip and stroked down his tailbone, then slid along the cleft of his ass and under until it met the slippery one already down there and twined with it.

That felt… strange. And amazing. Like a whole lot of very exciting orgasms just waiting to happen.

“So,” Otabek asked breathlessly, rocking his hips as much as he could into the slippery, writhing pressure, “which one is your…?”

“Uh. The two wet ones.”

The slick tentacles playing between his legs flexed pointedly, and Otabek’s mind blanked out.

_ “Two.” _

“Is that a problem?” Yuri asked, lifting his head to glare. “You were the one who offered to—”

“That,” Otabek told him gravely, “is the exact opposite of a problem.”

Oh,  _ wow. _ He knew he was something of a size queen, but this was beyond anything he’d ever dreamed of. He was about to get fucked up the ass by two genuine, real-life  _ tentacle dicks _ (both at once? Oh,  _ please _ both at once; he’d beg if necessary) and those tentacle dicks were attached to Yuri Plisetsky.

_ Thank you, Victor Nikiforov, _ he thought fervently.  _ Your uncontrollable hormones are a gift I’ll treasure forever. _ He should probably send a fruit basket or something. No, wait, that would be weird.

“Beka,” Yuri said tightly, right up against his ear, “I need— I need to fuck you now.”

“Do it, god,  _ Yura.” _

He was so ready; he wanted it all,  _ everything, _ right that instant. He needed Yuri’s freaky purple tentacle dicks — self-lubricating, good god, was this reality? — he needed them inside him like he needed air to breathe. Yuri’s hands stroked up over his chest and neck, tangled in his hair, and dragged his mouth back into kissing range; Otabek clung to him with his one free arm and surrendered his body to sweet, sweet xeno action.

Behind him, the third tentacle, the adventurous one curled around his ass, did some sort of twisty S-shaped thing between his cheeks that held them apart while the slick one it had been playing with brushed teasingly over his skin. The touch circled his hole once, twice, leaving a wet trail that rapidly cooled in the chill bathroom air, and then pulled back.

“Yura…”

With a last, shiver-inducing twist, the tentacle curling around his cock went slack. Otabek gasped and whined against Yuri’s lips, but they, too, had gone still.

Unfair. This anticipation was going to  _ kill _ him. Why wasn’t Yuri—

Fingers tightened just slightly on Otabek’s neck, and then the tentacle was back at his hole. A breathless moment of pressure, poised at the rim— and—

It drove in fast, merciless and slick. The tip was thin, no larger than a finger, and just the right amount of wet, and it knew exactly where to search for the spot inside him that made him shake. He whimpered into Yuri’s mouth.

He couldn’t think, could hardly even breathe, helpless to do anything but react when Yuri kissed him again, all tongue and lips and frantic motion. The other slick tentacle was coiling over his cock again, squeezing rhythmically, adding to the overwhelming flood of sensation. The tip stretched down to trace around his balls. Otabek writhed mindlessly against the thick tentacles pinning him to the tiled wall, trying to chase the feeling, trying to get closer, or away, or—  _ something, _ hell, he didn’t know what he wanted but he wanted it desperately. His hands moved without thought, gripped, and when Yuri moaned and collapsed against his chest, he remembered that a couple of those sensitive smaller tentacles were still woven between the fingers of his free-ish hand.

He rippled those fingers, slow and deliberate. That was all he could manage with his arms trapped by coiling purple tentacles and his legs held open by more of the same, with a slick tentacle driving into his ass and another coiled around his cock, with his mouth occupied by Yuri’s insistent tongue and his jaw clutched between Yuri’s hands. As Yuri gasped, the smaller tentacles responded by curling around Otabek’s fingers, repeating his motion back to him in slow, mind-melting waves that he could feel all the way through him. No, wait, the tentacle inside him was echoing the move, too; curving,  _ growing _ somehow.

“How—” he asked, and where had all his air gone? Oh, into Yuri’s lungs, right. “How are you doing that?”

Yuri pulled back the width of a breath. His lips were all swollen and red and Otabek wanted to keep kissing him forever.  _ You’re my best friend, _ Otabek thought weakly.  _ You're my best friend and you have  _ tentacles _ and for ages now I’ve been kind of in love with the shape your mouth makes, and this is only making it worse. _

“You, ah, haven’t spent much time at aquariums, have you?” Yuri asked, breathless. “Here, look.” He raised one of the smaller tentacles from the place where it wrapped around Otabek’s hip and— and, fuck, extended it until it was long and thin like pulled taffy, the tip curving in the air, then pulled it back until it was only half as long but thick all the way down. Then out again. Like a fleshy telescope. Like an octopus, or a snake, or the sort of tentacle that could make Otabek’s whole being catch fire — which was exactly what the one in his ass was doing. Lighting him on fire. It throbbed, questing deeper, and Otabek could feel the incredible stretch as it thickened and narrowed inside him in time with Yuri’s demonstration.

Bye, mental faculties. Nice knowing you. Only tentacle dick now.

_ “God. _ Yura.” Otabek scrabbled at anything he could reach — slim, twisting tentacles with one hand, open air with the other still held to the wall at the wrist by a heavy coil of purple —  trying to find something to steady himself with and meeting only more heated skin and curving tentacles and fuck,  _ fuck, _ Yuri was going to immolate him with all this sexiness.

In theory, this was all for Yuri. So he could change back to his human form, so he could skate tomorrow, so he could go back to the hotel without getting mobbed by the press or taken away to a government lab or something. But damn if Otabek wasn’t getting the better end of the deal right now.

Otabek was getting  _ Yuri. _ Yuri with  _ tentacles. _ This was the best possible end of the deal.

The tentacle Yuri had demonstrated with was climbing Otabek’s shoulder, brushing inquisitively over his collarbone and up his neck. When it edged over his jaw, he ducked his chin so he could get his mouth on it. Yuri groaned unsteadily. Otabek ran his tongue along the underside, watching Yuri’s reactions through eyes that struggled to stay open under the onslaught of sensation. The tentacle tasted like skin — which surprised him, though he had no idea what he'd expected it to taste like, if not skin. It was really just another limb, after all.

Another very sensitive limb. It filled his mouth and rubbed over his tongue, and Yuri watched him licking it with this stunned, covetous look on his face that make Otabek burn.

Experimentally, Otabek sucked on the tip.

“Bek— _ aah, hnn.” _ Yuri’s whole face contorted with pleasure.

The tentacle squirmed in Otabek’s mouth, sliding deeper, and the one in his ass shoved deeper, too, and Otabek made a very pleased noise that promptly got cut off as the first searched the back of his mouth for the source of the sound, or maybe just more friction and wet heat, who the fuck cared because Otabek was dying of lust. He shivered, sucking harder, while his cock twitched in Yuri’s slick tentacle grasp and his hole clenched around the flexing length inside. He wanted to make Yuri’s expression do that scrunchy thing again, the thing that said Otabek was blowing his mind.

Then the tentacle stroked the back of Otabek’s tongue, and further.

Otabek worked the flat of his tongue under it, tasting skin. With a moan, Yuri slid it out of his mouth, achingly slow, and back in, and then Yuri was kissing him, too, and there was a lot of action happening and Otabek was losing track of what was tongue and what was tentacle, and it all felt so goddamn good that he didn’t care to track it anyway. He didn’t need sense when Yuri was all over him like this.  _ (All _ over, god, he couldn't move for the weight of Yuri’s many limbs pinning him to the wall.) He let the tentacle hold his jaw wide while Yuri licked into his mouth, and tried to give back as good as he got.

Disentangling his hand from Yuri’s smaller tentacles nearly took more concentration than he had to spare, but he wanted to curl his fingers around the back of Yuri’s neck, wanted to drag him even closer. The tentacles followed his arm and stroked over his wrist as he moved. When Otabek’s fingers slid into his hair, Yuri hummed against his mouth, pleased.

Another tentacle joined the party between their lips, curling over Otabek’s jaw on the other side from the first, and he wondered if this was what it might be like to try kissing several people at once. But this was better, since it was all Yuri.

He was so caught up in the kiss that the touch of Yuri's second slick tentacle cock on his asshole made him jolt.

_ Oh, hell yes, _ Otabek thought, but he couldn’t say the words because his mouth was occupied with hosting a very welcome invasion.  _ Please. Fuck me senseless. _

He tried to say it anyway. “Ah, Yur—  _ ahhh—” _

His enthusiasm must have gotten across, because, as the tentacles in his mouth retreated to trace over his lips and chin, the second tentacle down south pressed at his rim until it breached him. Slow at first, with the tip stretched thin and nudging him gradually wider, the gentleness at odds with the way Yuri’s mouth ravaged his. But oh,  _ fuck, _ it felt so good. Every inch of progress split him wider, sent jolts of electrified pleasure from his hole out along every nerve, made him arch and writhe in the cage of tentacles as his body tried to adapt to Yuri’s increasing girth and never quite managed before more pressed in. Otabek moaned brokenly and Yuri swallowed the sound.

“Fuck,” Yuri whispered, breathing hard, and shifted his hips.

The second tentacle worked in further, slipping along the length of the first and doing some sort of unspeakable coiling thing inside Otabek, lodging itself in place. Then Yuri grinned at him — savage, beautiful, full of greedy enthusiasm — and inside him, root to tip, both tentacles  _ rippled. _

Otabek wailed in shocked bliss. His leg kicked out.

The trash can next to him toppled with a thunderous crash.

He and Yuri both froze.

That was  _ really loud. _ And they really needed to not be caught like this.

The noise seemed to go on and on. The can hit hard and bounced, clanging, spewing crumpled paper towels; the lid broke free and rattled on the floor. The two of them were paralyzed by the sound: Yuri leaning into him, green eyes wide, and Otabek splayed out, pinned to the wall by a mass of motionless tentacles with two of them wedged breathtakingly deep inside his ass. Yuri’s shoulders twitched with every echo off the tile walls.

The can’s bounces grew feeble. The lid circled on its rim and wobbled with a hollow sound, settling to the tile floor. Otabek stared into Yuri’s eyes.

Finally, after a tense eternity, the noise died away.

“...Everyone should be gone by now, right?” Otabek asked in a whisper, reluctant to break the new-fallen stillness. “No one’s going to come investigate?”

“Fuck, I hope not,” Yuri whispered furiously back. “That door doesn’t lock.”

Otabek’s hole spasmed at the thought. Yuri groaned and leaned in to kiss him again, then murmured, “You like that idea?” against his lips.

_ Screw it, _ Otabek decided. Maybe the thought of someone catching them made him hotter, but Otabek had come to happy terms with the idea of tentacles; a little exhibitionism wasn’t going to throw him off now. He kissed Yuri deeper and clenched — intentionally, this time — around his tentacle cocks.  _ (Two! _ his brain cheered.  _ Two at once!) _

This incredible, choked-off noise came from Yuri’s mouth, and the tentacles jerked back to motion.  _ Fucking hell. _ The way they moved was utterly inhuman; they writhed together inside him, rolling against his walls, thickening where they held him open. Otabek whined high in his throat.

Yuri grabbed him by one hip and one splayed knee, shifting him around with arms and a whole host of big, thick tentacles on his thighs and waist and— god, that was hot, that was  _ so much _ — spreading him wide on the wall so Yuri could get even closer. The smaller tentacles coiled around his cock, rolled over his balls, squirmed over the seam of his hip. The slick ones inside him, god,  _ fuck, _ they  _ rippled _ again, and he was distantly glad they hadn’t righted the trash can because he would have knocked it right back over. Holy _ fuck, _ that was mind-bending.

Then a big tentacle trapped his one free ankle, too, and Yuri did the rippling thing again, harder, faster. Otabek couldn't move, couldn’t do anything but feel, and fucking hell, what a feeling.

“Beka,” Yuri panted, pressing his face into Otabek’s shoulder. “Fuck,  _ Beka. _ You’re so— so hot, so—  _ nnn, god.” _

The tentacles were tightening on Otabek everywhere, holding his thighs apart and squeezing his shoulder, with a constantly shifting pressure that never quite let him adjust. He could only sprawl there and take it. A smaller tentacle tip flicked across his nipple and his back tried to arch, but all he managed was to grind his clenching abs into the immovable tentacle wrapped around his middle. He moaned his appreciation.

Yuri’s tentacles pushed deeper into his ass, swelling and shrinking and swelling again as they worked their way inexorably inside, a totally foreign motion that Otabek never wanted to stop feeling. Was Yuri going to try to get them all the way in? … _ Could _ he? They were long, very long, almost as long as his arm, but Otabek suddenly, desperately wanted to find out if they’d fit. If he could take Yuri’s tentacle dicks all the way inside, all the way down to the base — pushing his body to its limits, stretching him out and stuffing him full.

Teeth scraped over the side of his neck. Warm skin and leathery tentacles covered his body, trapping him in a possessive crush between the wall and Yuri's chest. That tentacle tip flicked across his nipple again, then returned and circled there.

“Yura,” Otabek gasped, fingers tight on the back of Yuri's neck, “Yura,  _ ah—” _

The tentacles inside him curled together, widening even further somehow, twisting into a squirming mass that filled him  _ just right, _ made him thrash in Yuri's hold, and with a euphoric rush and a groan that was almost a scream, Otabek came all over himself.

“Fuck,” Yuri growled, his voice tight, “fuck, fuh—  _ hnnhg—” _

Otabek could feel every pulse as Yuri shot off; a thick gush of come, another, warm and slick as it pumped into him. And it kept going, and going, god, he could feel the liquid pooling inside, filling him up, making him ache. The girth of Yuri’s tentacles held most of it in, but there was so much that Otabek could feel it leaking out in thick rivulets.

Yuri moaned raggedly, and his tentacles writhed in Otabek's ass, still throbbing, and some blissful combination of being stuffed so full of come and the relentless squeeze of tentacles on his body and the fierce stretch of taking both those cocks at once had Otabek tripping headlong into another orgasm, right on the heels of the first. Was that even possible? He didn't know that was possible for guys outside of porn land, but fuck, it was happening. His balls drew up again, and he groaned out a pitiful noise into the side of Yuri's neck as pleasure wrenched him sideways and the world narrowed, as his cock twitched in Yuri's coiling tentacle hold.

_ Two, _ he thought dazedly, when he could think at all.  _ Two orgasms from two tentacle dicks. I live in porn land now. _ Otabek was surprisingly okay with that idea — Yuri was a tentacle creature; improbable numbers of orgasms were nothing compared to that — though his nonchalance may have had something to do with the way Yuri was breathing profanities in his ear and, god,  _ still coming. _

Otabek hung limp in Yuri's grasp, spread wide on the wall by two arms and a whole bunch of tentacles, and drifted through a haze of bliss.

He couldn’t say how long it took, but eventually, Yuri stopped moving and just leaned on him, arms loose around Otabek's hips, letting the wall support them both. The tentacles, which had been so firmly insistent earlier, now felt limp as they meandered across his skin. Otabek freed his other arm without difficulty and wrapped it around Yuri’s shoulders.

He didn’t want to move. He was still up on the wall, and he still had two tentacles in his ass, and Yuri’s come was dripping inexorably out of him.

But, unfortunately, they were still in the arena bathroom.

“Can you change back yet?” he murmured.

“Hmm?” Yuri murmured weakly, then, barely opening his eyes, leaned in to kiss him.

_ Mmm, yes. _ Kissing was good. Kissing meant that Yuri didn't want to stop, either. Otabek opened to him immediately, welcoming the taste of his tongue, lazily shaping their lips together. Yuri’s hands tightened on Otabek, and his tentacles did, too, and suddenly Otabek wasn’t so averse to moving after all. Didn’t mean he’d be  _ going _ anywhere, but there could be a lot more moving happening right now.

He opened his eyes when he felt that wonderful, foreign squish of inhuman flesh under his forearm… up near Yuri's shoulder blades, where it shouldn't be.

“Uh. Yura. I think you're getting— um. More purple.”

Yuri started and pulled back. “Shit, I thought I caught it in time.  _ Fuck.” _

“It's getting worse? How high up does the transformation go?”

“All the way, if I let it. Normally it's pretty effortless to go back and forth between forms, but the hormones screw it up. I thought I'd stopped the change there, but if it's going higher…”

Otabek watched him avidly. “Does that mean we need to go again?” he asked, his voice rough with lust. “To bring it down some?”

Yuri’s gaze grew a very promising edge.

 

It took another two orgasms for Yuri, and another mind-bending one for Otabek just for good measure, before Yuri could change back to human legs. Otabek tried not to feel disappointed as the tentacles retreated and deposited him fully back onto his own feet.

He really liked those tentacles. They were good to him.

(Also, without anything to hold it in, all that come was making an absolute fucking mess.)

Even when Yuri was back to normal, though,  _ (normal, _ Otabek thought,  _ what’s normal? I need to redefine that,) _ he didn’t move away, for which Otabek was quietly grateful, because he really liked the guy those tentacles were attached to, too, and he wanted to kiss him again. Yuri stepped even closer on his human legs, slotting their thighs together, heedless of the slick mess dripping down them. His expression was mulish, daring Otabek to comment.

Otabek smiled. He left his arms slung limply around Yuri's waist and brought their mouths together in a lazy, satisfied kiss.

Yuri hummed into it, his lips moving slowly as his brow unknotted, his tongue brushing Otabek's lower lip with a hesitance at odds with everything they'd just done. Did he think Otabek wouldn't want this now, after Yuri had his legs back? But Otabek matched him move for move, kissing him slow and thorough, coaxing his lips open so he could lick inside, and Yuri made an approving noise and pulled him in with enthusiasm.

They stood like that for a long while, tasting each other. Yuri’s hands mussed his hair and framed his jaw; Otabek stroked up and down his naked back, enjoying the warmth of his skin. It felt completely human now, human ribs and human spine under human flesh. Still very nice to touch.

When the kiss finally dwindled, he dropped his forehead to Yuri's shoulder, then pressed his mouth to the clavicle under his lips.

“Are you good now?” he asked. “Can we get out of this bathroom?”

“Mmm,” Yuri said. “I think it's out if my system. Victor’s stupid pheromones won't be a problem for at least a couple days, even if I was marinating in them. ...Thanks, Beka.”

Which meant that Yuri could skate tomorrow. Which meant that this endeavor was a success.

Which meant that Otabek could stop hugging him.

Otabek had no desire to stop.

Yuri didn’t move away, either. That was, on reflection, probably a good thing for Otabek’s unsteady legs.

“My pleasure,” Otabek mumbled. “Really. Don't know if I remember how to walk.”

“What? No,” Yuri retorted with a poorly-stifled chuckle, his arms tightening briefly. “I'm the shapeshifter. You have the same number of legs all the time.”

“Mmmuh. That doesn't actually help.” Otabek shoved his face harder into Yuri's shoulder. “I think you, uh…”

“…Think what?”

“Think you fucked all the coordination out of me.”

The puff of Yuri's laughter ruffled his hair. “Do I have to carry you back to the hotel?”

“You might.”

He leaned heavily against Yuri, limp, then rolled his head to look up at him with one eye. This was his chance, his moment in need of seizing. He might be able to keep this — keep Yuri close like this, keep his touch and his lips and his freaky, mind-blowing tentacles, keep the way he moaned Otabek’s name right before he came like maybe it meant something — if he played it right.

Bluntness had always served him well before.

“Hey, Yura,” he said. “Do you want to do it again?”

Yuri startled. “You want…?”

Otabek kept his gaze steady, letting the question speak for itself, and after a moment, a sultry smile curled on Yuri’s lips. The hunger there had Otabek’s pulse picking up.

“You're coming back to my room,” Yuri said, and kissed him, and Otabek didn’t need to nod to tell him  _ yes, please, fuck yes. _

 

The journey back to the hotel passed in a daze. Otabek was pretty sure they’d made even more of a mess with the paper towels while trying to clean themselves up, and that he’d loaned Yuri his spare track pants somewhere in there, but any and all pants came right off again as soon as they got to Yuri's room, so he couldn't be certain. What he did know, however, was that Yuri tasted just as amazing when they were kissing in a bed as when they were kissing against a bathroom wall. And the soft mattress was a definite improvement.

In human form, Yuri only had one dick. That was fine. That was more than fine. It was still all tentacle-y. Otabek was just going to be over here, impaled on it and losing his goddamn mind.

They’d both be skating tomorrow, but Otabek could handle the soreness later if it meant he got to have  _ this _ in the meantime.

Human-shaped Yuri could still do incredible things with his dick. He could make it thicken inside Otabek, and he could twist the tip around so it squirmed directly on Otabek’s prostate and made him howl. Otabek clawed at Yuri’s back as he came, again, gasping through the wash of pleasure and painting Yuri’s abs with a thin smear of white.

There wasn’t much. Yuri was going to fuck him completely dry at this rate.

Improbable as it seemed, Otabek might actually welcome a respite. He was feeling thoroughly fucked out. He’d come so many times in the last few hours that there was a large chance that he wouldn’t be able to get hard again for a week. Yuri, though… Yuri could probably keep on forever.  _ Fuck. _ Yuri was amazing. Yuri and his unbelievable tentacle dick. (Dicks. There was a delightful plurality, sometimes.)

Even as Otabek drifted hazily back down from his high, petting Yuri’s sweaty back with uncoordinated hands, he could feel Yuri working up to another climax with a strangled groan and a rippling, throbbing move—

—and then Yuri froze mid-motion, body flush against Otabek’s and eyes gone wide, and said, “Ohmygoditcameoff.”

_ “…What?” _

Otabek thumped painfully back into full cognizance. No. No, that couldn’t mean what it sounded like.

“Beka.” Yuri kept staring at him with those too-wide eyes. “My dick came off. That’s never— I don’t— oh my god.”

Okay, so he didn’t mishear.

This was… this was fine. Everything was fine. Otabek took a deep breath.

“What the fuck,” Yuri said. “What the fuck just happened. My. That’s. It just— popped right off, what—  _ fuck!” _

“Yura?” Calm. Otabek was totally calm. He was— “It’s still moving.”

“What the  _ actual fuck.” _

“Just get it out before it gets stuck in there. Please.”

 

Victor, when they tracked him down for a frantic consultation, was less than reassuring.

“Aw, Yurio, you wanted to fertilize his eggs! That’s so sweet. I always knew there was something special between you two.”

“Eggs?” Otabek asked faintly.  _ “Eggs?” _

Yuri was focused on a different question. “Is it— is it going to grow back?”

“We’re related to cephalopods, Yurio; haven’t you taken biology? Of course it’s going to grow back,” Victor answered breezily. “Wow, can you imagine how inconvenient it would be to only be able to fertilize someone once in your life? No, no, that’s just bad for the gene pool.”

“Excuse me for not remembering biology lectures when  _ my dick just fell off.” _

Victor waved away his grousing. “In a couple weeks, it’ll be good as new. Just don’t think about spawning so much the next time you’re doing Otabek and it won’t happen again.”

“I wasn’t thinking about  _ spawning! _ Fucking—  _ rrgh.” _

At Yuri’s side, Otabek was still quietly reeling, brow furrowed.  _ “Eggs,” _ he whispered. “I don’t… I don’t lay eggs. Right? I’m not going to lay eggs, right? Yura?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [...you probably already know what song this is.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQBPgJQhQHc)


End file.
